Here is Chapter Eight of "Our Desire" — copy and paste
I didn't cry when they separated us.
Riven didn't beg. Didn't fight. Just looked at me like he was memorizing everything—my face, my fire, my fear—and then the Council led him through a thread-gate that sealed behind him like a whisper.
And I was alone.
The Threadspire was beautiful on the outside, but inside… it was a maze of rules. Wards that watched. Doors that vanished. Every move I made was recorded in floating glyphs above my head.
The Council placed me in the Arcanum Wing, a gilded prison made to look like a dormitory. Luxurious, yes—but still locked.
No thread practice without a minder.
No messages sent or received.
No contact with him.
Days passed in silence.
Until the dreams started.
I saw fire. And blood. A castle split in two by a threadstorm. A voice whispering over and over: "Find the one who remembers."
I thought it was nothing.
Until, on the sixth night, the mirror in my room cracked on its own. A glowing thread unraveled from it—red and pulsing—and slid under the wardrobe.
Curious, I followed.
Behind the wardrobe was stone. Old, rough, and hollow-sounding. I pressed it—and the wall gave way.
A hidden stairwell.
The Council had secrets.
I followed the stairs downward. Past the Arcanum level. Past the Echo Vault. Down into a layer that wasn't marked on any map.
There, behind thread-wrought bars glowing faintly blue, sat a figure.
A boy, maybe a year or two older than me, bound in threads so tight they looked like vines. His silver hair was tangled. His wrists bled faint magic. But his eyes…
His eyes were identical to mine.
He looked up the moment I stepped near.
"It's about time," he rasped, voice rough from silence. "The Desire Thread always finds its other half."
I froze. "Who are you?"
He smiled faintly. "My name is Kael. And I was Marked long before you."
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